


Carisi's Goddamn Legs

by juniperhoot



Series: Carisi's Goddamn Legs and Other Bits [1]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Bisexual Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr., Dodds ships it y'all, Fluff and Smut, Gay Rafael Barba, M/M, Overthinking, Pining, Profanity, Rafael Barba is obsessed with one noodly man, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 20:57:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17946977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniperhoot/pseuds/juniperhoot
Summary: Rafael Barba is obsessed with Sonny Carisi's legs. And the rest of him, come to think of it.But damn, those legs.





	Carisi's Goddamn Legs

Rafael Barba couldn’t stop thinking about Carisi’s legs. 

It wasn’t that he’d never seen tall men before. The world was full of them. At Rafael’s height, taller men -- alright, yes, and women -- were the rule, not the exception. Yet somehow, he’d never found himself obsessing over the precise length of their legs, the way he did when Detective Carisi was around.

Maybe it was the way Carisi stood, with his hip popped out to the side, almost settling into a sideways lunge, limbs just begging for attention. Maybe it was that slightly wobbly gait of his, how his legs seemed to swing out and around unseen obstacles on their way forward. Or maybe it was the way his knees splayed out to the sides when he crouched down, the proportions of his legs still evident in the long, sleek planes of those thighs that begged to be straddled. 

Clearly, it was becoming a real problem.

When Carisi had first asked about shadowing him on a case, Rafael’s initial impulse was mild to moderate annoyance. He talked too much, he was too eager to impress, and frankly, Rafael was still working to forgive him for the mustache from his early days with the unit. But then… the mustache was long gone, and there was no denying the appeal in having an attractive younger man following him around, fawning over his every word, declaring even his less than stellar days in court “awesome.” Perhaps in the beginning, it had been an ego-driven indulgence. But then, to his horror and delight, Rafael realized he enjoyed the company of the detective. Carisi wasn’t just tagging along and observing Rafael in court. He was picking up on important cues from suspects, offering valuable insights into cases, somehow bolstering Rafael’s arguments and providing a hell of a sounding board for his thought processes. The student was becoming the teacher, and damn if that wasn’t at least a little bit hot.

Lately, despite his efforts to the contrary, Rafael found himself staring. More than that, he found himself mentally calculating the distance, counting the inches from ankle to groin. It wasn’t a fact-finding mission, no simple mathematical puzzle to be worked out and jotted down. No, Rafael knew exactly what this was. In his mind, he’d already explored that territory, traveled the lean expanse of flesh, first with eager fingertips, then with lips and teeth and tongue, all meticulously calculating the length and breadth of Carisi’s exquisite limbs. Rafael wanted those long thighs wrapped around his hips, wanted to see Carisi bare and beautiful and vulnerable before him. 

Fortunately, the detective seemed unconscious of Rafael’s fixation on him. Standing with one arm braced against the doorframe overhead, he was in the middle of rattling off an update on the Merton case, blessedly oblivious to the scandalous (and decidedly unprofessional) nature of Rafael’s thoughts toward him.

It would never happen. It _couldn’t_ , for so many reasons. For starters, despite a profoundly gratifying case of what Rafael could only presume was hero worship, he suspected his sweet, rosary-toting protege was painfully straight. And Rafael was far too old to put himself through the damn wringer over a straight guy. ( _Again. Ugh._ ) 

Also, the detective was practically a fetus, wasn’t he? Especially since he’d lost the mustache; he looked positively cherubic, or as cherubic as could be expected of a very lean six feet. The age difference might not be outrageous - what was he, a decade younger, give or take a year or two? -- but it might raise some eyebrows.

And then there were the considerable professional complications. 

Granted, it was likely most of his colleagues already knew Rafael was gay. He’d never made any grand announcements, but he’d never made any effort to conceal his sexuality, either. In his line of work, a closeted life was unthinkable for purely practical reasons. Secrets were dangerous currency in the hands of one’s enemies. Being an Assistant District Attorney put a massive target on his back, so Rafael made a point of openness, at least about his orientation, if not his partners. But being comfortable in his own skin was very different from actively announcing the particulars of his personal life to his colleagues. Especially if _the particulars_ were a tall, handsome, younger detective from Staten Island who talked too much for his own good and looked sharp as hell in a three-piece suit. 

What was it Hassler had called Carisi? _Arm candy?_ And that was just a first impression, likely based on what she knew of Rafael, paired with Carisi’s ridiculous attractiveness and his incessant invasion of his mentor’s personal space. Besides, with that impeccably groomed hair (even with maybe a touch too much product), and that angelic face, like something out of a Botticelli painting… was she really that far off the mark?

Leaving aside the age gap, and the presumably insurmountable obstacle of heterosexuality, and the weirdness of sleeping with a coworker... they would be required to disclose any romantic involvement to prevent even the appearance of impropriety. There was too much overlap between their jobs, as evidenced by Carisi’s damn near constant presence in the ADA’s office of late. Late nights spent going over cases, tag-teaming suspects, prepping for testimony… all of that would come under scrutiny, or come to an end altogether, once a relationship was disclosed. The thought of it was enough to make a man break out in hives, and Rafael was absolutely certain there was nothing in his wardrobe that could make hives work. So that was a definite no.

Still. The extensive litany of practical arguments against such an entanglement was decidedly less compelling when he was looking right at the man, contemplating leaving bite marks on his inner thighs.

“...but Rollins didn’t seem convinced. Said I should ask _my professor_ , meaning you. Hilarious. Uh, hello?” 

_Wait, what?_

“Earth to Barba...”

“My apologies, detective. I am… woefully under-caffeinated.” Rafael sat up straighter and shifted his gaze to look Carisi in the eye. “Would it be unforgivably rude to ask you to start over? Preferably over coffee?”

“You’re lucky it’s just me you zoned out on. Imagine letting the Lieutenant talk for ten minutes while you were off in la-la land.” A crooked smile. Dimples. That delightfully open, inviting body language. “I’d kill for an espresso, and maybe a couple of zeppole or something.”

“At least a couple. My treat.” 

“Ohh, twist my arm, why don’t you?”

**********

The table was small and round, with just enough space to allow for two coffees and a shared plate of zeppole. Somehow Carisi found room to prop his elbows on the table, leaning in so Rafael could hear him over the low rumble of a crowded cafe. They’d come here before, at least a couple of times with Liv or Rollins, but never just the two of them. And now here they were, two colleagues having a casual cup of coffee and sugary blobs of fried dough, discussing work, while one of them tried to pretend that he wasn’t painfully aware of his companion’s proximity.

With very little room under the table, Carisi’s knees had nowhere to go, bouncing back and forth, rubbing against Rafael’s legs any time the gangly detective shifted in his seat. But it would be inconsiderate to allow himself to be distracted again, so Rafael sipped his coffee and did his best to focus on Carisi’s surprisingly smart explanation of where they stood on this case. He already had solid instincts as a detective, and his studies at Fordham were honing those instincts with an impressive understanding of the law. As much as Rafael enjoyed needling him, the truth was, Carisi was an asset to his unit.

“That’s good, Carisi. Really good.” The words slipped out, seemingly of their own volition, stray tendrils of praise wrapping themselves around the eager-to-please detective. Rafael barely recognized himself in the soft, unguarded tone.

Carisi chuckled and narrowed his eyes playfully at Rafael. “You’re just saying that so I’ll forget you were a space case this morning.” 

With an indignant huff, Rafael returned fire. “Excuse me? There’s a half-eaten plate of zeppole that says we’re even on that score.”

“Fair enough. But I’m not gonna lie, I kinda liked having something over you, for once.”

Maybe it was the infatuation clouding his judgment, but to Rafael’s ears, that sounded like flirtation. It wasn’t just Carisi’s words; it was the way he said it, low and conspiratorial and verging on seductive, with his eyes slyly crinkling up at the corners, and his dimples coming out to play. It was the way his lips pursed with expectation, as though he couldn’t wait to see Rafael’s response.

With an affected air of sternness, Rafael peered at him over the rim of his coffee cup, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “A fluke. Don’t get too used to it.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Hands raised in surrender, Carisi grinned. “I know where I fit in the grand scheme of things, counselor. I’m just riding your wake, here.”

Carisi’s knees bounced again, settling into prolonged contact with Rafael’s thighs. Hard to assign meaning when they glanced off Rafael’s legs and returned to a neutral position, as they had done several times. But when they made contact and lingered, warm and close and deliciously confining? Intriguing. Maybe a little dangerous. That list of objections retreated from his mind and for a moment, Rafael considered the possibility that maybe, just maybe, there was something brewing here.

“So listen, I was gonna ask you…” Carisi picked up the last of the zeppole and began picking it into pieces, idly popping bits of it into his mouth. “If you don’t have anything else going on later, I need your help with something.” 

Curiosity piqued, Rafael’s eyebrow shot up. “Do tell.”

“It doesn’t have to be today. Soon maybe. If it’s not an imposition.” A rosy flush crept up Carisi’s cheeks. “To be honest, I feel kinda weird asking this.”

“Spit it out, detective. I will need to get back to my office at some point today.” 

“Sorry. The thing is, I need to buy a tux. You dress so well, counselor, I couldn’t ask anyone else. I mean, I don’t think I can afford the kind of suits you wear, but I don’t want it to look cheap, you know?”

Rafael nodded curtly. He hated the unmistakable twist of jealousy in his gut, and refused to dignify it. He was being absurd. He didn’t know the whole story. This was hardly the time to be throwing himself on a fainting couch in a fit of weeping. There were many reasons for investing in well-made formalwear, and only a handful of them actually involved romantic entanglements. Why rush to such a melodramatic conclusion? 

Without wanting to sound like he was prying, he tried to keep his tone light and dry, bordering on disinterested. “Is there a special occasion, or are you just… looking to upgrade your wardrobe?”

“Ehhh, both, actually.” 

Carisi hadn’t really answered the question in a satisfactory manner, but he looked sheepish. What that meant was anybody’s guess. Something very personal? Possibly, since he didn’t seem interested in elaborating.

“Like I said, it’s not a rush. I know you’re busy. But I was hoping you could come shopping with me, help me find something... classy but within my budget. If it’s not too much trouble.”

Silently, Rafael finished his coffee. He could do this. He would make himself do this. He just needed to walk off the bruised ego and foolish hopes he’d entertained under all the rationalizing. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_. He glanced at his watch, then stood up abruptly and slipped into his coat.

“Let me check with Carmen and get back to you. I’m sure I can fit you in somewhere later this week.”

**********

The rest of the day was incessant. Back to back meetings, followed by a line-up that required Rafael’s attendance, followed by yet another meeting. It wasn’t an unusually busy day, but Rafael felt drained by the effort expended attempting to repair his mood. Whenever there was a momentary lull between appointments, he’d recall the irrational funk of disappointment hanging over him, and chastise himself for succumbing to… what? Excessive sentimentality? An ill-advised attraction? Whatever it was, he felt foolish and fatigued by the constant spiraling thought process that he knew, deep down, was predicated on nothing more than assumptions.

Emotions could be ridiculous. Ridiculous and exhausting.

It was a relief when Liv showed up at his office door that evening, looking to decompress.

“One of these days, just for fun, we should try to leave the office before eight.”

“An impetuous lark.” Rafael’s mouth twisted into the weary semblance of a smile. He pulled out two glasses, filling them from the bottle of bourbon stashed in his desk drawer. 

Olivia sank into the couch and put her feet up on the coffee table. “The world would spin out of control.”

“And so we soldier on, committed to maintaining the earth’s axial tilt with the cumulative weight of the hours we spend at the office.”

“Here’s to the earth’s axis.” Gamely, Olivia clinked her glass against Rafael’s and took a swig.

“Go Team Axial Tilt.” Rafael took another sip, then slumped back on the sofa. “And one more for… idealism. While we’re at it.”

Olivia quirked a brow at her friend. “Something going on?”

Rafael shook his head. He wasn’t really ready to talk in anything other than generalities, not even with Liv sitting right there doing her empathy thing. After a moment’s consideration, he latched onto a grain of truth he could admit without revealing too much of himself. ”There are days when I worry my armor’s… not protecting me the way it used to.”

“Wear and tear, I guess. Armor was never meant to be worn all the time.”

He drew a long breath, exhaling slowly before solemnly intoning, “ _And we are here as on a darkling plain, swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight…_ ” 

His voice trailed off into self-conscious silence.

“Wow. That bad, eh?” She reached out and patted his arm. “What we do here every day… it’s important. But it’s hard. Emotionally, mentally, physically… there are days when it seems like maybe it’s too much. For me too.”

Rafael nodded, content to let her believe this was about work. In a way it was, he supposed, so it wasn’t quite a lie.

“Maybe you need a vacation. Fly somewhere warm and sunny, indulge in some fruity drinks on a beach…”

“You sound ready to hop a plane yourself. What do you say we abandon our responsibilities and spend the next three days inebriated and gossiping under a palm tree? Discreetly ogling cabana boys? Might be just what we both need.”

Olivia chuckled. “Oh, I wish we could. But I’m in the middle of a case and can’t--”

“ _Ay, there’s the rub._ ” He sighed, briefly resting his head on her shoulder and closing his eyes.. “I can’t either. Not now. The beach will have to wait.”

“If there’s something else going on… Whatever it is, Rafa, you know you can talk to me. I want to help, if I can.”

“It’s nothing, Liv. I’m overworked and tired. I need a long bath and a good book, and a solid eight hours of sleep, and I’ll be ready to do my part for Team Axial Tilt tomorrow.” He sat up, finished his drink and forced a weak smile. “You know how moody I can be. Go home. I’ll be right behind you.”

Olivia nodded slowly and set her glass down. Shrugging her coat on, she paused in the doorway, and turned to look at Rafael. “Do me a favor. Be gentle with yourself tonight.”

**********

Two days flew by. Rafael hadn’t heard anything further from Carisi, but Rafael hadn’t bothered to initiate contact, either. After some sleep and time to think, Rafael had decided his impulse toward moping about was premature. He had too much work to do to sit around imagining slights or inventing dramas between himself and a very nice colleague with the face of a Botticelli and legs that would look amazing wrapped around Rafael’s waist. Fine, he wasn’t entirely free of daydreaming about the detective’s charms, but overall, he felt more like himself.

With a resigned sigh, he pulled out his phone and stared at it for five minutes straight before sending the detective a text message.

[ _Need your notes on Merton ASAP. Under pressure to file this week._ ]

It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say, but it would have to do as an ice breaker. He checked his phone a few times, but there was nothing. Maybe he’d been a little too abrupt with him the other day. Still, he had no time to wait around for a response. He had a conference call at ten, and a full day ahead of him. The ball was back in Carisi’s court.

Shortly before lunch, there was a knock at his door. Carmen poked her head in and held up a cup of coffee and a file. “Detective Carisi dropped these off for you. I told him you were on a call.”

“Perfect. It’s like he read my mind.” He took a quick sip of the coffee - heavily sweetened with a hint of cream. He had to give Carisi credit for paying attention at the cafe. 

There was a handwritten note clipped to the front of the folder (“Per your request. Call if you need anything else, I’m catching up on paperwork today. - Sonny Carisi”). Rafael flipped open the file, dense with Carisi’s penmanship. It would take some time to read through the detective’s thorough notes, but they’d be helpful in preparing his case. “I need to make a few calls, and work on this for a bit. I’m still meeting Rita this afternoon about the Merton case, right? Right, no interruptions, unless they come bearing gifts.”

The door closed behind Carmen, and Rafael dialed Carisi’s cell number. “Hey. Thanks for the coffee. Did Carmen discuss scheduling with you?”

“Ehhh, she may have been distracted by a cannoli.”

“No cannoli for me? I see how it is, detective. I may have to rethink my availability.”

“Noooo, you’re my only hope. Please.” Carisi laughingly pleaded with him. “Besides, I got you coffee.”

“We can discuss this egregious insult later. I have to get to a meeting. Looks like Rita’s ready to negotiate on Merton.”

“Oh, that’s great. Not counting chickens before they’re hatched, but I knew you’d pull it off. Did you want me to sit in on that? I could be over there in--”

“Not this time, Carisi.” No matter how much he’d enjoy seeing how quickly those legs could propel him from there to here, Rafael couldn’t afford the distraction today. He added in a slightly gentler tone, “Just call Carmen before my schedule fills up.”

**********

After a busy week of arraignments, endless paperwork, and one very successful plea negotiation, Friday arrived at last. Rafael had blocked out the afternoon for Carisi’s formalwear hunt. Even if he was dressing him up for someone else, he’d still get to see Carisi in a tux, and that was a silver lining of sorts. Besides, he had nothing else going on this afternoon.

Right on schedule, Carisi ambled through the door, coat draped over his arm and an easy smile on his face. 

“You ready to do this?” He handed over a small bakery box which Rafael could only assume contained cannoli. “I came prepared with a little incentive, in case you were thinking of backing out on me.”

“Detective… are you trying to bribe an assistant district attorney?”

“With pastries, yeah.”

“I’ll allow it.” Rafael gave the barest hint of a smile as he accepted the offering and lead the way out to a waiting taxi. “So, I have two places in mind. One is probably closer to your price range, but I’d like you to at least see the workmanship at the other.”

“Fair enough. I trust your judgment, counselor.”

“We’ll see about that.”

After a quick stop at the less-expensive option, they headed a few blocks over to Lorenzo’s, a locally-owned one man shop with a selection of high end off-the-rack suits and bolts of fabric for custom work. When they entered the quiet shop, they were greeted by Lorenzo himself, a well-dressed man with salt and pepper hair. 

“Mr. Barba, what a pleasure to see you again. And your friend…?”

“Carisi. Dominick Carisi Jr. Call me Sonny.” He reached out, enthusiastically shaking Lorenzo’s hand in greeting. “Nice shop you got here.”

“What can I do for you gentlemen today? Perhaps a new suit for court, Mr. Barba? I have something new over here that I think would be very striking on you.” 

“Oh, I would like to see that.” Rafael glanced around the shop, clearly tempted to invest in something new for himself. “But I’m actually hoping you can show us some formal options, for my friend here.”

“Indeed, with his build, we should have no trouble finding something that will work nicely.” Lorenzo glanced appraisingly at Carisi, who was nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m thinking a thirty… six inch inseam, and thirty inch waist, if I’m not very much mistaken. I’ll grab a few things and meet you back by the fitting room.” 

Rafael cleared his throat and gestured toward the back of the shop. “This way. There’s a place to hang up your coat over here.”

With Carisi in tow, he lead the way to the fitting area, with curtained alcoves for changing, and several full-length mirrors arrayed around a low platform. Rafael took Carisi’s coat and hung it beside his own on a nearby coat rack. He went to take a seat in a nearby wing chair, and picked up a coiled-up tape measure. He tossed it at Carisi, who caught it without blinking an eye.

“Nice catch.”

“Little league baseball. I guess you never lose the knack.”

“I wouldn’t know. I never acquired that particular knack.”

“You’ve got other knacks.” Carisi shrugged and began unspooling the tape measure, wrapping it around his waist. “Huh. Did you tip that guy off? Or is he really that good at eyeballing a waist?”

“Professional eyeballer. He’s taken a lot of measurements over the years. He knows what thirty inches looks like.” 

“Color me impressed.” Carisi grinned at Rafael. “Hey, come here. Let’s see how good he really is. Hold this end down by my ankle.” 

Rafael sat frozen in the chair, unable to do anything but blink at his companion, who was expectantly holding out the measuring tape. _Did Carisi know?_ Maybe his endless ogling hadn’t gone as unnoticed as he’d chosen to believe. He’d thought about this exact thing so many times, too many if he was entirely honest with himself. And in his mind, the fantasy usually ended with blowjobs all around - a mental image he needed to shove aside if he was going to do this in a professional, completely non-creepy way. 

Hoping he looked less flushed than he felt, Rafael stepped forward as though in a daze. He accepted one end of the tape and knelt down on the edge of the platform, his hands trembling as he lightly pressed the metal-capped ribbon to Carisi’s inner ankle.

“Okay, it’s smooth, right? What does it say?” 

Rafael looked at the tape, bunched up and bowing out, away from Carisi’s leg. Suddenly parched, he swallowed hard and tried to make a sound. “Uh… no, you have too much slack here... and here. Your legs are long, Carisi, but not even you have a forty inch inseam.”

“Fix it, will ya? I want to see if he’s right before he gets back.” 

Increasingly flustered, Rafael protested. “Surely, you’ve been measured for the suits you wear to work.”

“Those things are off the rack. I try them on until I find something that looks okay.”

Rafael wanted to scream.

“Come on, fix the tape.” Carisi grinned down at him. “I’ve got this end. Feed me the slack.”

“Fine.” Still holding the end against Carisi’s ankle, Rafael began running his other hand up the length of the tape, smoothing it out against the warmth of Carisi’s leg. His heart was racing as his fingertips traversed the distance from ankle to knee and continued upward, when suddenly Carisi shivered. Unsure whether to continue, and struggling to regulate his breath, Rafael hesitated, then pushed the remaining slack toward Carisi’s waiting hand. He risked a fleeting glance at the upper limit of the measuring tape, and uttered a raspy, “Thirty six.”

“I’ll be damned.” Carisi’s voice was husky as he turned and stepped away from Rafael. “Your guy is really good.” 

“Mm hmm.” Rafael slunk back to his chair, hastily crossing a leg to obscure the straining fabric of his trousers. He had not believed in hell since childhood, but in this moment? Hell was real and it was right here.

As if on cue, Lorenzo approached them, rolling a garment rack full of tuxedos in varying shades of black and dark blue. “Alright, gentlemen. I went with a spectrum, with your classic-cut black tuxedos at this end, and then as we go along, we start mixing things up a bit and taking some risks with different cuts and textures, a bit of color... The question is, what’s your risk tolerance?” He peered inquisitively at Carisi.

“Oh wow, I dunno. I… Barba, what do you think? Classic or risk taker?”

Rafael blinked and looked from Carisi to Lorenzo, then glanced at the rack. He was still struggling to process what he was sure was a shiver, and whether it meant anything other than that he’d hit a sensitive spot on Carisi’s otherwise one hundred ( _Ninety nine? Ninety three?_ ) percent heterosexual leg. Affecting nonchalance, he shrugged. “Start trying things on and see if anything speaks to you.”

With a nod and a muttered, “Wish me luck,” Carisi disappeared behind the curtain with a dress shirt and the first tuxedo, a classic black with notch-cut satin lapels. 

Lorenzo smirked at Rafael and nodded approvingly. He glanced over his shoulder at the dressing room, then said in a low voice, “I’ll just grab that other suit I mentioned.” 

Desperate for distraction, Rafael pulled out his phone and began scrolling through his email. Nothing that needed his immediate attention. But it was mildly calming, swiping up repeatedly, casually scanning the utterly impersonal list of subject lines and senders. It was preferable to wallowing in the all-too-recent sensation of Carisi’s hand against his, and the shudder that went through him. Had he crossed a line? Should he have refused to play along? Refused on what grounds? That he’d been nursing some kind of preposterous infatuation with this lanky, beautiful, angelic creature currently getting dressed behind a curtain a few feet away and couldn’t trust himself to take a simple inseam measurement?

This was a mistake. This was definitely a terrible lapse of judgment. And these emails weren’t helping as much as he’d hoped they would.

“Hey, uh… so… I owe you an apology,” Carisi began, his voice slightly muffled by the curtain.

Rafael looked up. “You… what? What for?”

“I didn’t mean for that to happen.” 

Looking around to be sure they were still alone, Rafael left his chair and slowly approached the curtain. “You mean…”

“My, uh, physical situation. Kinda hard to miss it… I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I have nothing but respect for you, counselor, I really do.”

For once, Rafael found himself at a loss for words. “Your...?”

Carisi parted the curtain and peeked out at Rafael, his cheeks flushed and eyes bright. “Honest to god, I wasn’t trying to be a creep. But once you were there, I forgot…”

“How are we doing back here? Can I help with anything?” Lorenzo breezed back into view, carrying a suit that, on any other day, would have made Rafael’s jaw drop. But under the circumstances? _Timing..._

“Uh…” Clearly flustered but trying to refocus on the task at hand, Carisi stepped through the curtains, jacket hanging loose and shirt untucked. “I’m not sure I’m feelin’ this cut.” 

Wrinkling his nose, Lorenzo shook his head. “No, I see what you mean. You have such a nice, sleek line, but it’s buried under all this fabric. Slim cut is the only way to go. Ignore everything from here to… here. Just try this on.”

Carisi accepted another tuxedo - a dark blue with a narrow black satin shawl collar - and glanced tentatively over at Rafael. After a reassuring smile and a nod from Barba, Carisi disappeared behind the curtain.

Without a word, Rafael took the other suit from the tailor, and made a point of admiring the fabric. Three pieces, all exquisitely cut, in a deep grey plaid with muted threads of green running through it. Subtle, but a statement at the same time. He could already think of at least four different ties and half a dozen pocket squares that would look spectacular with this suit. It couldn’t hurt to try it on, especially since Lorenzo wasn’t going anywhere. 

He entered the second fitting room and began changing, his mind struggling to find equilibrium, replaying everything that had happened since they entered the shop. What the hell was going on? More importantly, how had he missed an erection? He was right next to it, for god’s sake. Granted, he’d been deliberately circumspect in trying to avoid even the appearance of impropriety, what with his hand on Carisi’s inner thigh. Christ. His hand had been on Carisi’s inner thigh. Maybe it wasn’t so hard to believe.

Despite his heightened state of anxiety and distraction, he found himself smiling to himself as he tucked his shirt into the new trousers. They’d need hemming, of course, but the waistcoat fit perfectly. The colors suited him, the tailoring was impeccable, the fabric clearly of the highest quality. With a few minor alterations, the suit would be… an almost justifiable expense.

He could hear Carisi stumbling around in the other fitting room, swearing under his breath. 

“You alright in there, detective?”

A thump. More swearing. “Yeah, just a minor altercation involving my shoe.”

“Please tell me you are not trying to pull those pants on over your shoes.”

After a moment of silence, Carisi said almost inaudibly, “No.”

They finished dressing, and emerged, transformed. 

It took less than a second for Rafael to decide he needed the grey plaid suit. The approval in Carisi’s eyes was impossible to miss, and embarrassingly persuasive.

As for Carisi, he needed cufflinks, but the tuxedo was a perfect choice for him. The color of the jacket suited his fair complexion and the touch of silver at his temples, and somehow made his eyes even more breathtakingly blue. The slim cut showed off the breadth of his shoulders, while celebrating his long, lean physique and legs that could make a strong man’s knees buckle. Rafael breathed a quiet, “Wow.” 

Cheeks already rosy from his exertion behind the curtain, Carisi ducked his head a little and smiled self-consciously. “You think so, counselor? How do we feel about this blue?”

Rafael wasn’t even looking at the suit anymore. He’d made direct eye contact, and couldn’t stop the toffee eyes even if he wanted to. Neither of them could. 

“We feel very good about it, Carisi.”

They stood there, barely three feet apart, staring, while Lorenzo fussed over them and tugged at their clothes. Rafael couldn’t remember all the reasons he’d clung to caution. Not with Carisi looking at him like that. 

“I like this one on you.” They both said it at the same time, then laughed nervously.

Lorenzo hummed to himself as he walked around them, looking for any bunching or loose fabric that might require an alteration. He looked at Carisi, whose eyes hadn’t left Rafael’s face since they’d emerged from the fitting rooms. “Do you want to try a bow tie with this? Some cufflinks, perhaps? I’ll fetch a few options for you.” Without waiting for a response, he stepped away at a brisk pace, fanning himself.

“That suit brings out the green in your eyes, counselor.” Carisi stepped a little closer, reaching out as if to indicate the faint pattern on Rafael’s suit coat, stopping just short of touching his chest.

Rafael had so many questions, and his mind was in a tumult, torn between interrogating the hell out of Carisi and kissing him with at least as much intensity. After a moment of hesitation, he forced himself to speak. “What you said before, when you apologized...”

Carisi rocked back on his heels, grimacing. “When you were measuring me before, I was just goofing around, you know? I didn’t do it to trick you into, uh, touching me. I wouldn’t. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I didn’t think you’d mind, because I’m just… me, and you’re you, and you’re so good at the boundaries stuff, always putting me in my place, right? And then you’re down there, and you’re touching me, and I’m trying not to like it so much, but you look up at me and for a second I’m thinking… I see something in your eyes. And suddenly I forgot all the reasons I’d kept telling myself to keep things professional with you. To be honest, I still can’t remember them, because you’re still looking at me like that, Rafael.”

The sound of his name in Carisi’s - Sonny’s - mouth was too much. Rafael took a step toward him. “Rafael, eh?”

“Sorry, I’m just really confused right now.”

“Join the club.” His other questions would have to wait. Snaking a trembling hand around the back of Sonny’s neck, Rafael drew him close, finally kissing the lips he’d stared at for so long. Dear god, they were soft, as soft as Rafael had imagined them so many times, and sweet, with lingering hints of the cannoli he’d scarfed down in the car. He was astonishingly kissable, and Rafael needed more. His tongue flicked out, slipping between Sonny’s lips, tentative at first, but insistent and eager to explore this new and entirely wonderful development between them. 

And god help them, Sonny was just as eager to throw himself headlong into one ravenous kiss after another, his tongue meeting Rafael’s with the pent-up ardor of too many months spent wishing and hoping. His hands were everywhere, pressing into the small of Rafael’s back, cherishing and cradling Rafael’s face, lightly stroking a reverent thumb over Rafael’s cheekbone. Sonny gasped as Rafael’s hand slid down his back, pulling Sonny’s hips toward his own. 

On the verge of losing himself to the overwhelming sensory input, Rafael moaned softly. He could feel himself getting hard, could feel Sonny getting hard, too. How had it come to this… explosion of whatever the hell this was, here of all places? He wanted to pull Sonny into the fitting room, decency be damned, but there were some lines he knew he simply couldn’t cross. Weakly, he murmured, “We should stop, we can’t do this here.” 

“You’re right, yes,” Sonny whispered, still kissing a trail along Rafael’s jaw. “I’ll stop. You just… smell so good...”

Rafael whimpered as Sonny nuzzled at his earlobe, then tried again, with a slightly sterner tone. “Carisi, stop. Lorenzo is watching us.”

“Are you kidd-- nope, you’re serious. Ugh.” Flushed and throbbing with lingering arousal and fresh embarrassment, Sonny reluctantly pulled back. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Can we talk about this?” 

“Mm, hold that thought.” Rafael patted him on the chest, making an effort to steady himself. The sight of that physical contact, at once intimate and somehow breathtakingly natural, stunned him. He was actually touching Sonny Carisi. How many times had he entertained the hope of doing exactly this, and so much more? Yes, they needed to talk. Among other things.

**********

The next hour was spent on small talk and secret smiles and furtive, longing glances, while Lorenzo pinned and marked their suits for alterations. Rafael couldn’t be sure whether the tailor was more pleased by their purchases or their over the top display of carnal abandon right there in the middle of his shop. Either way, he was certain they’d made Lorenzo’s day. They left the shop with assurances the altered suits would be ready for pickup in a few days.

The weather was crisp but not too cold, so Sonny pulled out his phone and began looking for restaurants within walking distance. After ruling out several places as too noisy or too grubby, they agreed on a cozy but well-reviewed Italian place, and nervously settled in at a small table near the back. 

After placing their order, Sonny couldn’t seem to settle on a place for his hands. Without a menu to flip through, he looked lost, crossing and uncrossing his arms, clasping his hands in his lap, aggressively drumming his fingertips against the tabletop. Sighing, Rafael reached out and silenced the percussive tumult by gently taking Sonny’s hand in his own. It sent a thrill up Rafael’s arm, this still new sensation of skin to skin contact with his… colleague? Protege? _Arm candy?_ Whatever. 

“So…” Rafael’s eyes were dark in the flickering candlelight of their little corner of the restaurant. He wasn’t sure where to begin, but a conversation was necessary. Or at least advisable.

“So.” Sonny drew a long breath, letting it out in a loud whoosh. “How about that shocker on Dancing With the Stars last night?”

Rafael smirked. “Ah, yes, riveting. Who could have predicted that… dance-off? Between those... people who used to be on something?”

“Alright, so you don’t watch Dancing With the Stars. No big deal, although I probably should have asked about that before making out with you in a fancy boutique.”

They laughed, the tension broken for the time being, and Rafael cast a warmly appraising gaze at Sonny. “You really do have atrocious taste in television.”

“I know, I can’t help it. Trash relaxes me. I refuse to be ashamed.” Still chuckling, Sonny squinted at Rafael. “Besides, even you’ve gotta have some guilty pleasures. A secret love of vampire novels, or a weekly karaoke bar habit, or… I dunno, every album ever put out by Motley Crue.”

“Are you asking if I have a shamefully extensive collection of hair metal CDs in my apartment? Is that what you want to know?”

“ _Oh my god_ , if you do--”

“Please. That was a random example, not a confession.” 

“I dunno, I still think it’s admissible. The extreme specificity--”

“Absurd. It was a deliberately tasteless suggestion. When we’re finished here, I’d be happy to show you my music collection, in the interest of salvaging my tarnished reputation.” 

Sonny’s laugh faded into silence, but he couldn’t stop smiling as he studied Rafael’s expression. “Did, uh… did you just ask me back to your place?”

“Hm. I did, didn’t I?” Rafael bit his lower lip, equal parts playful seduction and contemplation. “Listen, Carisi… Sonny. I would be lying if I told you I didn’t want to take you back to my apartment and kiss that ridiculous grin off your face.”

“What do you think put that _ridiculous grin_ there in the first place?”

“Point taken.”

“Even now, holding hands like this… with you looking at me like that… I’m still thinking about that kiss, and the next kiss, and the one after that.” Sonny was blushing again, his expression broadcasting the intimacy of his thoughts. Shaking his head, he met Rafael’s gaze. “And you wonder why I’m sitting here grinning like an idiot.”

“Not at all. I’ve come to expect some degree of idiocy from you. This is nothing new.”

“Always gotta get those digs in.” There was nothing accusatory or defensive in his voice. If anything, he sounded tickled. He’d grown accustomed to Rafael’s teasing, had actually come to enjoy their verbal sparring matches, which had softened appreciably over time. 

Sonny allowed himself a moment to consider his next words, treading as lightly as he could with his heart so wholly on his sleeve. “Raf… I need to know if what happened back there was a moment of… I dunno, hormones going berserk, or if there’s more to it than that.”

“Full disclosure: my hormones are, without question, absolutely raging at the moment. Thanks for that, by the way.” Rafael swirled the wine in his glass and took a steadying sip. “But... what happened today? That didn’t come out of thin air.”

“Good. Because in case you weren’t sure, I really, really wanted that to happen. To maybe an embarrassing degree.” 

“That makes two of us.” As the server approached with their plates, Rafael squeezed Sonny’s hand and released it. He needed to eat, and needed to think, and touching Sonny was counterproductive to both of those aims. His mind was still reeling and trying to sort out how he’d so totally misread Sonny’s intention toward him, when it seemed so obvious now.

“You never did tell me why you needed to buy a tuxedo.” 

Sonny, intent on twirling his fork in a pile of pasta, smiled to himself. “No, I didn’t.” He shoved a forkful of lemon-buttery cappellini into his mouth and met Rafael’s exasperated glare with amusement.

“Carisi…”

“Fine, I’ll tell you, but I was gonna save it for later.” Sonny reached into the inner breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small envelope, which he placed on the table between them. “My sister Teresa decided I needed to, in her words, class it up a bit. Like she’d know anything about class.”

Upon closer inspection, the envelope contained a pair of tickets to Puccini’s _Manon Lescaut_ at the Met.

“You wanted to dress up for the opera.” It was so perfectly reasonable, so entirely charming, and so wholly lacking in any reasons for Rafael to have felt threatened by Sonny’s presumed straightness. He wondered if he looked as foolish as he felt, coming to terms with his now-mortifyingly obvious logical leaps.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know if everyone does that, but I’ve seen some stuff on PBS, and the Met’s audiences always looked pretty fancy. I didn’t want to walk in and have everyone thinking, hey, check out Staten Island over here.” 

“They would never.”

“Right.” Sonny grinned. “Anyway. I was hoping you’d want to go. With me, I mean.” 

Rafael pulled out his phone to check the date against his calendar. “Are you sure this day doesn’t conflict with anything important? The season finale of that dancing show? The one with the alleged ‘stars’?”

“Nah. Besides, even if it did, I could DVR it.”

Satisfied that he was free that day, he handed the tickets back to Sonny. He was midway through typing the details into his calendar when it hit him. “Wait. When you asked me to help you buy a tuxedo, you were already planning on asking me out? On a date?”

Sonny’s cheeks were already tinged with color, but they somehow went even darker. “Yeah, that was the idea. I guess I’d talked you up so much, Teresa was fed up with me not doing anything about it.”

“So it wasn’t just about _classing it up_ …”

“It was about classing it up _with you_ ,” Sonny finished the sentence, nodding. “She said to me, ‘Sonny, if you don’t strike while the iron’s hot, your guy’s gonna find himself some gorgeous twink who can appreciate the finer things in life, and you’ll be shit outta luck.’”

“Your sister is a sage. Clearly it runs in the family.”

“You’re a real funny guy.” Sonny reached across the table, his long fingers warmly suggestive as they captured Rafael’s hand, gently caressing it. “So, you didn’t actually answer the question.”

“Technically, you didn’t ask me a question. You mentioned that you’d _hoped_ I’d go.”

“Rafael, I’m gonna flip this table and kiss you so fucking hard.”

“Is that a promise?” The corner of Rafael’s mouth curved up in the barest hint of a coy smile, almost daring Sonny to make good on the suggestion.

“You’re really gonna make me do this, aren’t you?” Sonny chuckled and wiped his mouth on the corner of his napkin, tossing it down on the table. “Fine. You win. Hey Rafael, I have two tickets to the fucking Met, if you can believe it, and I just spent a lot of money buying a tuxedo so I don’t embarrass my date too badly. Would you do me the honor of joining me, as my date, for a night at the opera?”

“When you put it that way…” He was shamelessly flirting with this handsome weirdo, and he had never felt more alive. “Of course I’d love to go. How can I say no to an evening of Puccini and the sight of you in that magnificent tuxedo?”

“Good, it’s a date then.” Sonny looked genuinely relieved. “Jeez, I can’t believe you made me squirm like that.”

“Making you squirm is high on my priority list, Carisi. So, so high.”

With a stifled groan, Sonny leaned forward and dropped his voice. “You keep that up, I’m gonna need to get this dinner boxed up.”

“Now that you mention it…”

“Check please.”

**********

Rafael couldn’t remember the last time he’d left a restaurant in such a state of arousal. He felt giddy and foolish and for a moment, a touch younger than his years, so driven was he by this rush of all-consuming lust. It was an altogether lovely sensation. They barreled out the door, heedless of anything but their need for privacy, in desperate need of a cab.

Sonny was grinning cheekily over his shoulder at Rafael, when he walked headlong into Olivia Benson.

“Oh shit, sorry, I-- Heyyy, Lieu. Good to see you.”

“Whoa, eyes forward next time, Carisi.” Olivia patted his shoulder, her eyes wide as Rafael stepped out from behind him, turning his coat collar up against the breeze. “Rafael, what a surprise. Let me guess… bar prep?”

Rafael looked to Sonny, who simply nodded and said, “Yep, it’s coming up pretty quick here. Barba’s gonna be riding my ass pretty hard to get me ready for it.”

Maintaining an impressive poker face, Rafael gave a “what can you do” sort of shrug. “I’m prepared to stay on him from now til he takes that test, if it helps him live up to his potential.”

“Rafa, you have the patience of a saint.” 

“That may be a bit of a stretch, but I’ll allow it.”

Olivia patted Rafael’s arm. “Well, I’m supposed to be meeting someone, and you two probably have some studying to do. Nice seeing you.” 

Standing rooted to the spot, Rafael and Sonny watched Olivia disappear into the restaurant. Rafael was still staring at the door when Sonny started chuckling under his breath.

“Well, that was one hundred percent normal. Zero awkwardness detected.” Carisi grinned at Rafael. “So, _Saint Rafael_ , I was thinking we could go back to your place, talk about the law for a while, maybe make out some more…”

“Shush.” Rafael glanced over his shoulder, then softened his expression as he looked up at Sonny. “I need three minutes of your best behavior. Once we’re in the cab and on our way, you have my enthusiastic consent to say or do whatever you wish.”

Sonny stepped closer to Rafael, his pupils blown wide and dark with arousal. “Whatever I wish?”

“Within reason. Until we get to my place.”

“Okay, I can work with that. You still gonna show me your hair metal CDs?”

“I don’t have any. Which I will prove once we get there.”

“Sure.”

When the cab arrived, Rafael quickly gave the address to the driver as they slid into the back seat. He sat with his face toward the window, trying not to think about what would happen when they arrived as his apartment. Running into Olivia had thrown him for a loop. Everything he’d agonized over in the months leading up to this moment was suddenly a stark reality, and not just a hypothetical argument against getting involved with Carisi. He felt panicked, and unsure of what to say, and couldn’t help but wonder if Olivia suspected there was more than bar prep going on between them.

Sensing the shift in mood, Sonny didn’t say anything. He reached over and placed his hand - his large, warm, capable hand - on Rafael’s thigh. It was a simple gesture, a tangible reminder that he was right there, that they were in this moment together. After a moment’s hesitation, Rafael rested his hand on Sonny’s.

For at least the better part of the past year, he had cherished this secret longing for Carisi, knowing there would be complications if he were ever to pursue it. But he still wanted him. He couldn’t look at him and not feel an ache. And if he was honest with himself, it had been that way for at least the better part of the last year. Even now, sitting next to him in the back seat of a taxi, Rafael wanted to wrap his arms around him and inhale his scent, and taste every inch of him, and make him moan and writhe with pleasure. He just wanted him, goddammit. So this thing between them didn’t exist in a bubble. He knew that before, and couldn’t escape knowing that now. But for tonight, it was just the two of them, doing whatever the hell they wanted to do. Everything else could wait until tomorrow, or maybe next week, or the week after that. 

They rode in silence until the taxi pulled up in front of a modest but attractive apartment building in Washington Heights. Rafael paid the driver and they got out. 

As they walked toward the building, Sonny placed a hand on Rafael’s shoulder. “Hey, you were awful quiet on the way over. You don’t have to do anything if you’re not feeling it anymore. If you need more time or… you’re having second thoughts or whatever.”

His voice was so painfully earnest, so careful. Rafael wondered what he had done to attract the interest of this sincere creature. It wasn’t as though Rafael had ever pretended to be anything less than a jaded grump. And yet here they were. 

Rafael gazed up at him, his eyes resolute. “Nothing’s changed, Sonny. Unless… you don’t want to come up?”

Sonny exhaled, a soft laugh erupting as he leaned in. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Without another word, he pressed his lips to Rafael’s, tangling one hand in Rafael’s hair. His other hand slipped under Rafael’s undoubtedly expensive coat, exploring the soft planes of his chest and belly. “God, Raf, I wanna touch you without all this clothing in the way.”

Fully satisfied that they were still on the same page, Rafael turned his head, abruptly breaking the kiss. “Inside.”

**********

They made their way past the doorman and up the elevator, maintaining physical contact the entire way, whether through relatively chaste interlaced fingers or, once in the elevator, outright grinding and kissing. As Rafael fumbled with his keys at the door, Sonny stood immediately behind him, hands on Rafael’s hips, his lips repeatedly grazing Rafael’s ears and neck. “C’mon, counselor, I’m starting to think you lack motivation.”

The door swung open and they tumbled inside, with Rafael hurriedly locking it behind them. He turned to kiss Sonny, stumbling backward and muttering a cursory tour of the apartment in between kisses. They made their way to the living room, dropping their coats on a chair along the way. 

“Shoes off… there’s the kitchen… bathroom’s that way by the bedroom…” 

Rafael pushed Sonny down onto the couch, straddling his hips as he continued kissing him. He loosened Sonny’s tie, untying it and tugging at one end until it slipped off. “This is nice - feels like real silk. Did you choose it yourself?”

“Christmas present from my parents. I’ll be sure to tell them you stopped undressing me to express your approval. They’ll be so pleased.”

Rafael rolled his eyes, making a show of tossing the tie aside. He carefully removed his own tie and draped it over the arm of the couch, then began unbuttoning Sonny’s shirt. Tugging the shirt open, his fingertips made first contact with a barely-there scattering of fair chest hair, deliberately grazing sensitive pink nipples. He slowly worked his way downward over Sonny’s slender but still gorgeously kneadable belly, triggering a low rumble of ticklish laughter.

Sonny was just as intent on divesting Rafael of his layers of garments, his pale hands contrasting with Rafael’s slightly darker, decidedly hairier torso as he removed his waistcoat and shirt. He chuckled at Rafael’s murmured sartorial protestations as he threw the clothing across the room. “I’ll pay to have it pressed. Now kiss me.” 

It was an easy request to grant. Rafael eagerly claimed those full, red lips in increasingly passionate kisses, made all the better by the combined heat of their bare torsos pressed together. Sonny started grinding his hips upward against Rafael’s, his arousal impossible to miss. They both wanted more, needed more. Rafael slid one hand down over the firmness straining at Sonny’s trousers, reveling in the gasp of pleasure elicited by his touch. He kissed his way down Sonny’s neck, biting at his collarbone, flicking a tongue over the pebbled flesh of his nipples, as he frantically worked the zipper down to allow easier access. 

Ignoring Sonny’s protestations, Rafael slid off his lap, appreciatively sliding his hands down the length of his wiry legs as he rose to stand before him. “Up. I need these trousers off you now.” 

Happy to oblige, Sonny scrambled to his feet, his pants dropping immediately to the floor. Rafael kicked them aside, deftly removing his own and adding them to the heap. They stood for a moment, bodies touching, only the soft cloth of boxer briefs between them. Sonny’s fingers were tracing the lines of Rafael’s face, his neck, his shoulders, a look of mingled wonder and lust in his eyes. His voice so low it was almost unrecognizable, he whispered, “Take me to bed, Rafael.”

Unwilling to break the mesmerising contact between them, Rafael nodded, dazed, one hand cupping Sonny’s magnificent ass, eager to finally map out every inch of his bare, beautiful body. His breath hitched as Sonny returned the favor with a firm squeeze. 

With Rafael steering, they somehow made their way to the bedroom, tugging at one another’s boxer briefs and discarding them as they tumbled onto the bed. Sonny scooted back toward the pillows, propping up on his elbows to afford a better view of Rafael crawling over the duvet toward him. 

The sight of Sonny’s nakedness, his long legs splayed out invitingly, his erect cock hard and pink and eager for Rafael’s touch, was almost too much to process. Almost. Rafael decided to start with the legs, tenderly kissing his way up them, alternating sides to ensure complete coverage. His tongue flicked out at the tender skin under Sonny’s knees, his teeth gently grazed impossibly long inner thighs, working his way toward Sonny’s groin. His lips brushed delicate kisses over Sonny’s balls, high and firm with unspent desire. At every step along the way, Rafael’s heart throbbed a litany of words of unbridled adoration. He nuzzled at the dense patch of hair at the base of Sonny’s cock, inhaling the heady scent that was uniquely his, almost intoxicated by the sensation of his cheek rubbing against Sonny’s aching erection. 

“Fuck, Raf, you’re killing me.”

Rafael glanced up at Sonny, deliberately making eye contact for an excruciating moment. His voice was a low purr as he asked, “Is that what I’m doing? Do you want me to stop?”

“Fuck no, don’t even joke about that. I would literally die.”

“Pretty sure literally isn’t the word you’re looking for.” Rafael quirked a teasing brow. 

Chuckling, Sonny flopped one of his knees inward, nudging at Rafael. “Thanks for the input, counselor, I’ll take it under advisement.” 

Had he ever had this much fun with someone in bed? If he had, Rafael couldn’t recall it. Too many people treated sex as serious business, with an oddly performative aspect to it all. But Sonny didn’t appear to have a “sex persona” that left behind everything that made him so damnably endearing. He was still Sonny Carisi, lying naked in Rafael’s bed, staring at him expectantly and being a wiseass. 

Eyes still locked with Sonny’s, Rafael licked a long stripe up the underside of the cock in his hand. With a groan, Sonny flopped back on the pillows, surrendering to the talented ministrations of Rafael’s lips and tongue. 

Rafael had daydreamed about this, possessively taking Sonny into his mouth, his tongue stroking the length of Sonny’s erection, tasting the salty precome, soaking up his every moan and whimper and shudder with unabashed delight.

Sonny couldn’t stop talking, his tendency toward praise apparently dialed up by having his dick sucked. “You’re really good at this… I mean… oh god, oh god… I figured you would be… always so good with your mouth, you know? But… ohhh… fuck, that’s good. I can’t…”

It was like having a gauntlet thrown down before him, to give the best goddamn blowjob he’d ever given. _Challenge accepted_. Spurred on by Sonny’s wanton abandon, Rafael wrapped his fingers around the base of Sonny’s cock, his hand rising up the shaft to meet his suckling lips and tongue. 

“Wait… ohhh... Raf… I’m getting really fucking close.” Sonny ran his fingers through Rafael’s hair, gently pushing him off. “Come here.” 

Rafael crept up the bed, hungry for more kisses, aching to be touched. Sonny wrapped long fingers around Rafael’s cock, administering slow, teasing strokes. He was smiling, the slightly dazed, anticipatory smile of a man who knew the effect he was having on Rafael. He let the pace build slowly, agonizingly, reveling in the sensation of velvety soft skin gliding over the rigid flesh in his grasp. 

Sonny’s forehead rested against Rafael’s, his wanton gaze fixated on the cock in his hand. “I want you in me. Do you--?”

“Oh god, yes.” With a guttural groan, Rafael rolled off him, scrabbling at the bedside table drawer for a condom and lube. Settling in between Sonny’s thighs, Rafael drizzled a blob of lube on his fingers, hesitating for a moment. “Have you done this before?”

Sonny grinned, drawing his knees up over his torso invitingly. “Just because _you_ just figured out I’m queer doesn’t mean I didn’t know it before today, Raf.” 

“Smartass.” Tentative, lube-slicked fingers touched Sonny’s tight entrance, gently circling until Rafael felt him relax under his touch. One finger slipped inside with relative ease, stroking and stretching until Rafael could add a second, and then a third finger, easing him open until Sonny was pleading, his blue eyes nearly black with need. 

“I need you in me now.”

Rafael picked up the condom, tearing at the edge of the wrapper with his teeth. He gave himself a few long strokes, then rolled it over his erection. He squirted a glob of lube on his hand, rubbing it over the length of his cock, then pressed the tip against Sonny’s waiting ass. “Did you say you wanted--”

“Just fucking fuck me, Rafael.” 

With a sensuous groan, Rafael slid into him, just the tip at first, looking to Sonny for assurance he was alright before easing fully into him. He paused, awash in the overwhelming sensation of tight heat gripping his cock, then began to thrust, long and slow at first. He gripped at Sonny’s legs, adjusting the angle of his thrusts until Sonny uttered a series of profanities, his blue eyes rolling back involuntarily. Ah yes, that was the spot right there. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Carisi. You were made for this… for me.” He hadn’t meant to say it, couldn’t think about it now. He kept thrusting, driving deeper and deeper, feeling that delicious sensation of an orgasm approaching, not quite there yet, but soon. 

Sonny wrapped his legs around Rafael’s waist, driving his cock even deeper into him. He couldn’t possibly realize the effect those legs had on Rafael, the effect they’d had for too many months to count. 

“I’m so close, Raf… goddamn, you make me feel so good.” Sonny’s hand slipped between them. He began stroking himself, in rhythm with Rafael’s thrusts. 

“That’s it, yes... touch yourself. Fuck, that’s… so... hot.” He’d imagined this so many times. So many months of fantasies, imagining what it would be like to be with Sonny. But seeing Sonny now, so vulnerable and exposed, jerking off and begging Rafael to thrust harder, deeper... it was so much better than anything he’d imagined. 

Rafael wanted to make it last, but also wanted desperately to see Sonny come undone at his touch. Judging from the sounds he was making, and the way he was clawing at the duvet cover, it wouldn’t take much more to push him over the edge.

“I want you to come for me, Sonny.”

It wasn’t an order, or even a suggestion. It was an admission of something that went beyond sex. Something that scared Rafael, but also thrilled him.

As though he’d been waiting for those words, Sonny stroked faster, his moans building and becoming more insistent. He clenched around Rafael, his orgasm coming in hot spurts over his chest and belly. Rafael had never seen anything so perfect in his entire life, gazing adoringly at the expanse of pale flesh beneath him. He was a work of art, a vision of sin and salvation, a shockingly sensuous angel come to carry Rafael away with him, whether to heaven or hell or somewhere else entirely. It didn’t matter, so long as they could do this, be this for one another. Together. Panting, Rafael let himself go, his body shuddering with release, his thrusts coming as a series of last, ecstatic spasms before he stilled. He stayed there, unwilling to pull out just yet, needing a moment to allow his ragged breaths to return to something resembling normal.

“I wish you could see how fucking gorgeous you are right now.” Sonny was beaming at him, his face glistening with perspiration, luminous and soft with affection. He squeezed Rafael’s waist with his legs, then allowed them to stretch out and flop loosely on either side of Rafael.

Rafael leaned down to plant a soft kiss on the curved bridge of Sonny’s nose, then carefully eased out of him. “Don’t move.”

He disappeared into the bathroom to discard the condom and wash up, returning with a warm, damp cloth. Sonny’s hands were folded behind his head, bony elbows jutting out to the sides, his long legs crossed at the ankles. He looked deeply sated and stunningly relaxed. He cracked an eye open as Rafael approached to clean him up. “Hey there.”

“Hey yourself.” Rafael was humming something that Sonny couldn’t place, contentedly swiping the washcloth over him, pressing an occasional kiss to freshly-washed skin. After dropping the washcloth into a hamper in the bathroom, he returned to the bedroom, somehow still astonished at the day’s events. He fished a t-shirt out of a drawer and set it on the bed for Sonny, then grabbed a dark satin dressing gown, tying it around himself. “You hungry?”

“Starved. Where’d I drop that bag of leftovers?” Sonny was on his feet in an instant, stepping into his boxer briefs and bounding out to the living room. Rafael padded out to join him, grinning at the satisfied, “Aha!” as Sonny tracked down the wayward Italian takeout. 

He headed for the kitchen, with Sonny in tow, setting out forks, a corkscrew, and two wine glasses. He scanned the wine rack on the counter, pulling out a bottle of something he thought would go reasonably well with reheated pasta. 

Sonny came up behind Rafael, wrapping his arms around him, nuzzling at Rafael’s hair. “So. You really thought I was straight. After all the hints I dropped.”

“What hints?” Rafael laughed. He supposed he deserved this, but still. “You’ve mentioned old girlfriends before.”

“You surprise me, Rafael. You’re the last person I’d expect to view the world through heteronormative lenses.”

_Ouch._

“Listen to you, with your fancy Fordham Law night school vocabulary.”

“Listen to you, deflecting.” Sonny caught the top of Rafael’s ear in his teeth, playfully nipping at it. He hugged Rafael a little tighter and pressed a smooch to Rafael’s cheek. “What I mean is, not everybody gets sorted into gay or straight. I guess I thought you knew that already.”

Rafael bit back a snappy retort and resumed his efforts at opening the bottle of wine. He knew Sonny wasn’t criticizing him. And he’d already told himself, countless times, how ridiculous his previous assumptions were. He couldn’t fault Sonny for pointing out the same.

Cork popped and wine poured, Rafael leaned back into Sonny’s embrace. “You’re right. I did know that. I regret that I let my assumptions get in the way of really seeing you before now.” He turned in Sonny’s arms and reached up to caress his cheek. 

“Thank you.” Sonny kissed Rafael’s forehead and pulled him into a tight hug. “But seriously, can we talk about how many times I tried to get your attention? All those cups of coffee I brought you? All the times I touched your shoulder or arm? Or let our knees touch a little too long under a table?”

Blushing, Rafael laughed again. “Alright, I will admit there were a number of times when you’ve been… right up there in my personal space. Even at the precinct. Sometimes I wonder if any of them suspect something.”

“Oh, I know Dodds does, for a fact.” 

Rafael nearly choked. “ _Dodds?!_ ”

Relishing the moment, Sonny grinned and nodded vigorously. “Yeah, there have been a few times when I caught him looking at us kinda suspiciously. So this one time, maybe a month ago, right after you went into Lieu’s office with her, Mike comes over to me and says real quietly, ‘I’m saying this as a friend and not your sergeant, but when the time is right…’ and he hands me a folded up disclosure form. And I was like, ‘Uh, I’m not seeing anybody right now.’ And he just shakes his head at me and says, ‘Sure, okay. And this is all off the record, so relax. But maybe if you’re not ready to go public, you should try to remember that when you’re hanging off Barba’s every word and eye-fucking him in front of everybody.’”

“Wow.”

“I know, right? And I swear, the last few times I had to deliver files to you, it was Dodds dumping them on my desk, after he’d already told Rollins and Tutuola to call it a day.”

“That sneaky, matchmaking bastard. Remind me to buy him a drink sometime.” 

They carried their wine glasses and reheated dinners to the living room. Rafael was deep in thought, and wanted to be sure he didn’t misspeak. “So… I don’t want to get ahead of myself here, but we probably need to talk about… discretion.”

Sonny’s cheeks flushed a deep pink. He nodded. “Absolutely. I never meant to call attention anything… I mean, to be fair, there wasn’t anything before. I mean, there was interest, and I always thought you were smokin’ hot, but it’s not like you did anything to encourage it. It seemed like you went out of your way to shoot me down on a regular basis. For a while there, I thought maybe you were just too far outta my league to even notice all my clumsy--”

“I noticed you the first time I saw you. You had a horrible mustache, and your hair was a mess. Your clothing was at least two sizes too big for you, and looked like it came from a K-Mart in 1976.”

“Gee, Raf, you really know how to make a guy feel special.”

“I also noticed the day you shaved that thing off your face. And when you got a haircut. I noticed when you started wearing suits that fit you, and colors that brought out that gorgeous silver in your hair, and made your eyes shine against that perfect complexion. I noticed every goddamn time you rolled up your sleeves and braced your fists on a desk. I noticed every time you got angry at a suspect but somehow managed to hold it together and ask the right questions. And I noticed every time you looked like you wanted to cry, listening to a victim give a statement.” Rafael squeezed Sonny’s knee. “I noticed you over and over again. I just somehow missed that you wanted me to notice you.”

Eyes glistening, Sonny leaned over and kissed Rafael’s cheek. “Eat your dinner before it gets cold again. You still have to show me where you’ve got those terrible CDs stashed.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into writing for Barba and Carisi. I hope I did them justice. (See what I did there? Justice? Ho ho. Ugh.) I spent the last year watching the entirety of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit for the first time, and recently wrapped up the Barba era. I am still in denial about it. Having mainlined this show from the start to the middle of season 19, I have to say, I came into this show unprepared to fall madly in love with Rafael and Sonny, and the idea that these two were meant for each other. (Warren Leight, I know what you were up to with these two. Don't even try to deny it.)
> 
> This is set… ehhhhhh... somewhere in the middle of season 17. I didn’t build it around a specific episode, but it’s at some point after Depravity Standard and before Sonny takes the bar exam. The case referenced is made up, because I had zero intention of turning this into a proper case fic. 
> 
> “And we are here as on a darkling plain, swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight…” -- an excerpt from Matthew Arnold’s poem, “Dover Beach” (We all had to study that in school, right? All that loneliness and stuff about the futility of trying to cling to human connection for comfort? Yeahhhh.)
> 
> “Ay, there’s the rub.” -- Uh, Hamlet. Shh. Yes, I know. You’re all going to Chicago this spring, right?


End file.
